experiences and musings

I can't decide if I love that warm-climate cultural aspect where one must argue for a solid five minutes with one's friend about who is going to out-hospitality-ize the other. But either way, I experience it pretty much every week now, which has been glorious. Kristi and I had to take turns bickering with our dear Turkish friend who flat out insisted that we were destitute, struggling, poor college students who could not afford to have her over to our homes and provide the culturally-mandated refreshments and tea that must be present when entertaining. Therefore it only was right that she treat US to all the goodies at HER house.
Our come back was that we were her cultural informants and Americans who can darn well afford a few cookies and a spot of tea once every couple of weeks when she concedes to coming onto our turf.
However, it IS a little tricky to get to Kristi's place. I agreed to meet our friends on campus - where they knew how to get - and guide them to the house. It is a few blocks away down a rather curvaceous route in which Kentuckian drivers are often encountered and I didn't want to risk throwing my friends into flashbacks of their host country's insane driving laws (or lack thereof) distracting them from the route and getting them thoroughly lost.

So they called and I ran across campus, saw them waving out their window in the parking lot, let myself into the back seat and collapsed into a heap panting heavily. They chirped their hello's and then lapsed into their native tongue. Eventually they admitted that they were commenting on their discovery as to why I am so thin: they clucked in admonition when they pointed out that I apparently run everywhere.

(room mate, friend, and me playing dress up with my scarf)

I tried to balance small talk with guiding them through traffic and we finally parked. Sema got out of the passenger side of the car and spread her arms out in preparation for a big bear hug.
"Nice girl, I want to say hello to you. I have missed you, nice girl. Come give me a hug!"
I laughed and gave her a big hug and Fatmah came up behind me clucking her indignation that I hadn't given her the traditional peck on both cheeks accompanied by a hug first.
Sema has only been Stateside for about six months and so is far more timid in speaking English, but when she does makes it very very clear that she feels at home with me and Kristi and Colleen, and likes us a lot! Its encouraging and humbling and flattering and convicting, all rolled into one. These dear ladies aren't going to stay here, but will return to Turkey when their husbands complete the schooling they initially came here for. While I value them as friends in their own right, I am constantly reminded that I am one of the few witnesses to Christ they have ever met, and they will take these memories of me and my testimony back with them. However, so far it seems to be a generally good experience, which is good. :-)

(room mate sharing pictures of family on Facebook via an Iphone
I love how internationals usually own
better technology than I do.)

Today's sermon in Church was all about the difference between a 'Carnal Christian' and a person who is claiming to be a Christian but isn't. The point of the sermon wasn't to instruct Church Members on how to run around judging fellow members in the Church, but how to determine if I myself truly am a believer who is walking my talk. I have full assurance of my salvation, so the Sermon was generally encouraging, although I jotted down in my notes some areas of improvement. A funny quote from the sermon had to do with the Stainless Steel cookware someone had given my pastor and his family. He was jokingly complaining about how he now owns bizarre and strange cleaning products that had never graced his cupboards before, and how he was learning how to cook on lower heat temperatures. The reason being that the steel grabbed onto whatever substance he was trying to heat, sucked it into the grooves of the metal, and apparently then screamed "MINE!"
"You are supposed to grab onto Spiritual Truth like a stainless steel pan grabs onto a burnt egg! But what happens is that some Christians are like Teflon pans, and let the egg just slide right off. Yes, non-stick is BAD in this analogy!"
After laughing with the rest of the congregation, I thought about the different ways I've been trying to allow Spiritual Truth sink into the details of my life. Meeting with these Turkish Muslims regularly has really been a good sounding board. They ask hard questions that cause me to ask myself, my professors and my Lord questions that I had never thought to do before. I am constantly reminded of my inadequacies as a Christian and forced to turn to the Holy Spirit for help and guidance.
One of the application questions at the end of the sermon was 'What victories have you won lately? No victory is perfect, but what Spiritual Victories have you just WON, albeit imperfectly, in your life?'
I won't take the time to list all of them as this is getting long enough, but it was encouraging to have to mentally go through the list of areas the Holy Spirit is working in my life.
A big part of the sermon, though, was TIME.
A dear friend of mine who has been really struggling with being a Christian for the last year called the other night and we had a really good conversation. I hung up a little frustrated, though, at how much TIME it is taking him to grow into the strong man of God I know he could be.
The sermon reminded me that while sometimes God does work in quick, visible, miraculous ways, sometimes we are called to throw seed out into a field. Whether that field has good soil and just needs a good rain shower to make those seeds start to germinate... or instead get eaten up by birds when the cracked dry land does nothing with them, is in God's control. I'm called to continue casting seed whenever the opportunity arises.

I am so blessed to be given the opportunity to learn how to sow seed with my brothers and sisters in the Lord... despite all our various obnoxious imperfections and irritating quirks. ;-)

(3 missions majors and 2 counseling majors)

Again, I'm sort of thinking and musing and rambling out loud and trying to get my thoughts in order. However, my mom claims that her blog is there strictly for self-therapeutic reasons. I'm gonna lay hold of that excuse, and at the same time hope you've been encouraged and convicted and entertained by mine. :-)

~Princess Ouch~

compare and contrast.... bleh!!!

Which requires more faith: dealing directly with God and trusting the unseen in the physical realm,
OR
dealing with man and the seen, in which the spiritual realm is still very real and present, yet not as tangible?

I'll explain what I mean through an example. Which missionary has more faith: the one who is part of a faith-based organization, relying on prayer for support (like George Mueller)
OR
A missionary who is part of an organization which provides his physical needs and has a network of prayer support, but bureaucratic, rather micromanaging tendencies in the name of ensuring constancy in the vision and goal of its workers?

Because the former deals directly with the Almighty who is Unseen but always Present and Perfect and reliable.
The second deals with imperfect humans who are obnoxious and irritating and backstabbing, and one must again rely completely on the Lord for feedback and guidance when interacting with said individuals. Not saying that ALL of them are like that ALL the time, but that particular aspect IS more ready in the second setting than the first. Just sayin.'

It has recently occurred to me that my time as a full time undergrad student is entering into its final chapter (providing no further catastrophe's decide to drop in on my life, that is) and I need to start thinking about what I'm going to do with myself once I get that much-coveted piece of paper that says I'm a real person who has a brain (i.e. my diploma). There's several options of what I could do and they are all good. The trouble is which applications do I start praying about and filling out and which ones do I not even bother about?
Part of me isn't worried about it at all and the other part is trying to not start hyperventilating from anxiety. There's been so much wierdness and transition in my life for the last year and a half and it was so nice to just have a breather this semester of nothing wacky disrupting life (shoot, I've gotten all my papers turned in on time this semester, and decent grades on all my tests!! do you know how LONG its BEEN since that happened?!) and now I've got to start looking ahead to the next big transition. What to do after graduation. Shoot. I don't WANNA!

Part of me looks with longing at my friends who will graduate with the M.R.S. degree, and another part of me is incredibily releived that I"m not yet 'chained to a house of stone' as Tolkien's character says (somewhat paraphrased) in "The Return of the King" (BOOK, not movie). On the one hand its intimidating to have that aspect of my future completely open for any possibility and on the other hand profoundly liberating and adventuresome to trust the fact that I serve an amazing God who has amazing plans and will do amazing things with me as I am and bring amazing people into my future. A guest speaker in class today mentioned the fact that as single people we can hop into the car for off-hand road trips and are far more open to ministry at late night hours in out-of-the-way places than people with families are. And while I have been told numerous times that I am CLEARLY not called to be single, I am incredibly thankful for this season of singleness.

There's a recruiter on campus who works for a faith-based organization. Talking with him today revealed a ministry that reflected many of the mentalities and guiding principles that I was convicted of when I returned home from the mission field in 2006. While I don't know if this is the particular ministry God wants me to work with long term, it has definately given me food for thought and caused me to examine mindsets and mentalities I have grown out of in the last few years. Or areas that I haven't wanted to think about because of the 'survival mode' I had been operating under since October of 2009. Not trying to sound TOO dramatic or anything. Its just I've got 'The Last Samurai" soundtrack playing while I write this, and emotionally - extended family passing away, my parent's house fire, and other personal drama - its felt like I've had a finger over the 'red alert, panic stations' button for a while.

SO while the faith-based organization is appealing, I'm realizing that I've turned into a chicken regarding faith for crazy, long term things. SO the question to be voiced in my prayer life now is, have I 'lost' an aspect of young faith that I had when I was 18, or have I grown and matured in my faith and learned that certain things simply aren't 'wise'?

Some very good friends of mine (its a whole family) are, along with their church, supporting a student from Africa who is bringing his family over while he finishes school, despite severe financial setbacks. The constant question this family has asked themselves is, 'when does it stop being faith and become simply crazy?'

A lot of the stories you read about amazing faith-filled lives (greats such as George Mueller, Gladys Ailward, Corrie Ten Boom, etc) include stories of pure craziness.
There is a difference between crazy faith and foolishness, but again, how does one differentiate?

I was asked today in class by the guest speaker, "Out of all the places you've lived, which one is your favorite?" I asked for clarification. "Well which one would you like to move back to and settle down in?"
Well to be frank I couldn't answer him; not because I've hated all the places I've lived but because for whatever reason the thought of 'settling down' and planning where I live just hasn't ever been on the radar for a while. God opens doors and I either run through them or get kicked through them. Never entirely sure what is happening at the time, but sure that the fingerprints of God are all over the events. (I didn't say it half as good as that at the time)

Yes I am definitely in ramble-mode. Sorry.

So all that to say, the Lord has just been bringing people into my life that have me constantly evaluating and praying and Listening and searching Scripture and Waiting and Wondering.

SO the reason for the opening question is... faith based organization run in a fashion similar to George Mueller's operation...
or the safer route... IMB? Not sure.
They both have pro's and con's. They both have areas in which I strongly agree and area's in which I'm not entirely sure I stand and other areas that... well, please just don't ask my opinion of it, thank you. ;-) But its that way with anything...
I know I've got about a year and a half to make decisions, but as I said... application processes take six months to a year...

And I REALLY don't want to be one of those graduates who collapses with relief upon getting the diploma from the Dean and doesn't DO anything for a year or two...

Okay enough of sending my wack-job thoughts and musings into the void. I'm going to bed. Unless, of course, my dear roomie wants to let me have more of her lamb-mushroom-curry-amazingness that she let me try a few seconds ago.... *smacks lips*
:-D

p.s. Okay so the websites for the two mission organizations I'm talking about in this post are:
IMB:
http://www.imb.org
WEC
http://www.wec-usa.org

Excellent video!!!

Desiring God Q&A Panel - Loving Our Muslim Neighbors from The Summit Church on Vimeo.

This is a very interesting video we watched for class. I tried copying the embed code and pasting it here, so... hopefully you can see it. Or you can go to http://www.jdgreear.com/my_weblog/2010/10/loving-our-muslim-neighbors.html and see it there. It talks specifically about ministering to Muslims, but a lot of what they talk about is very helpful just in examining our own faith as we work it out with fear and trembling, as well as ministry in general to unbelievers :-)
Enjoy!

Clash of the paradigms

It's weird, because as a Misisons Major at a Bible College, I'm reading almost more than I can stomach regarding different missiological approaches towards the propagation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. However, when confronted with one of the people I read about in these books and actually hearing how their lack of faith manifests itself, I never ceased to be amazed and at the same time somewhat appalled.
What brought about this opening statement is the confuddlement I have been grappling with since befriending two lovely Turkish ladies who are also Muslim. One seems a little more open to the Gospel than the other, but both have asked me and my friend to explain the Bible to them so that they can understand it correctly. (yeah. No weighty responsibility contained in that commission at ALL!) And both times we've met and conversed I've been hit with the overwhelming realization at how complex and bizarre the Christian worldview is when perceived by non-believers. Its so simple once you get it, but when you haven't gotten it yet, its just weird.
A prime example is when we were answering some questions regarding Isa, the Islamic name for Jesus. They believe in Jesus, they love Jesus. They respect Him and actually Mohammed wrote some very touching things about Him in the Qur'an. They even believe that He was born of the virgin Mary, and that it was God who put Him in her womb.
However, He is NOT God nor the Son of God, because how can God have a son, and clearly God is ONE not two.
There's differences of opinions regarding sin and depravity amongst Muslims, but the one lady has informed me emphatically and repeatedly that Adam's sin in no way effects her. Her sins are her OWN, not Adams, thank you very much.
And the Law is simple to fulfill. If we don't fulfill the Law, that is our own business. Sin stems from abuse of sexual instincts or rejection of God.
I always start to get a headache by the end of my conversations with them because its such a paradigm shift.
There was one point in the conversation where we were trying to explain the Atonement in response to some very pertinent questions she had.
"Wait. You think that JESUS died for OUR sins?!?!" she exclaimed once we overcame the language barrier.
"Well... yes..." my friend and I answered, not entirely sure where the amazement stemmed from.
"No. Wait. God gave US the law to fulfill. Its there, its clear. And if we CHOOSE not to obey it, then He pays for it Himself? That doesn't make any SENSE!"

Or today, for class I had to visit a 'center of cultural or alternative worship.' Blech. I was raised in a Christian environment my whole life, and I've had this type of assignment before where I have to go to some other established meeting place of non-truth-religion. I always leave with a headache.
My mom explained it to me once this way: How do Federal Agents know when they come across a counterfeit bill that it is fake? Do they study the various methods and means by which false currency is made? No. Not at all. Do you know what they do? They study the real thing to such detail that they immediately recognize when a single splotch of ink is out of place. (okay maybe slight exaggeration there, but you get the idea)
I guess the same thing is coming through in this case: having been raised a Christian and fallen in love with Jesus Christ and wanting the propagation of His Kingdom to be my life's work, its appalling and offensive when I see His name slandered.
The Iranian gentleman who led the meeting today was a man overflowing with friendliness and hospitality. A sweetheart if ever I met one, although still possessing a very faint aura of creepiness that always accompanies a leader of any cult.
I have to give a group presentation on the Baha'i faith for class, and I asked the gentleman if we could possibly interview him later on this semester and even video tape the interview as well as photograph the center.
"Listen, listen. Let me explain myself to you. I want you to see me as your friend. Obviously there must be time and trust that will be established through friendship, but consider this community center yours and all you need available to you."
(Don't worry, I'm not going to enter there without my burly classmate accompanying me again.)
I was touched by his seeming sincerity but wondered how far I could push his commitment of compliance. With all the wacky events that have happened in my life the last few years, I've learned to take such offers with a tad bit of cynicism, even when they come from Christians; and especially when they come from non-believers.
However, his charisma was endearing. But I couldn't help but have a strong feeling of offense rise when he began explaining that Jesus Christ was just another manifestation/man possessed by god, just like Bahu-u-llah.
"NO! That is NOT true!" my inner-self screamed. "JESUS is the ONLY Way, Truth, and Life, and there is no other way by which you can be saved, friend!"

I've always had the opinion that religious radicals need to take a deep breath, smell some flowers, and stop taking life so seriously. But I had never had my beliefs so repeatedly and blatantly thrown in my face. And the funny thing is, this isn't in an antagonistic sort of way at all; its in a gentle, friendly way by people who seem genuinely concerned for my welfare.

So I'm not mad at them by any means, just struck with the profound tragedy of the reality of hell.
While headaches and fatigue always accompany such engagements with pagans, I haven't regretted an encounter so far. In fact I wonder why more Christians don't brave the headaches and circles under their eyes. I wonder why we are not more passionately pouring over Scripture to make sure our response is true and holy and correct in the eyes of God; not just in theology but in methodology.
C'mon, Christians. There are lots of people out there who need Jesus. Go find some of them! Its actually easier than you might think; the main point is for them to see the sincerity and authenticity of our faith. And if our faith is real, then that shouldn't be hard at all, right? ;-)

Urban Missions

Okay today I've done something I have never ever ever in my entire life done before ever:
I gave my toes a french manicure.
well, an amateur version anyway.
Yeah, I painted my toe-nails, and then painted the white line across the top. Whoop-dee-doo.
You have to understand, doing girly things like painting my nails and spending hours on my make-up or hair has never been a concern for me. I just started using hair-spray correctly and on a regular basis last semester.
So I'm not sure what exactly overcame me that I was suddenly seized with the wild impulse to make my feet pleasing to the eye. I've been wearing flip-flops around campus, which might be part of it, but I have never cared what my feet looked like. Hey I guess this 'wild' impulse is far better than, I don't know, having something pierced or tattooed... something drastic that just won't look right when I'm 80.
I don't know, whadaya think... would a nose piercing look styling on an 80 year old in 57 years?

In other news, have been doing some reflecting on my recent trip to the Chicago area. We were able to bum around the area near Gino's East (Pizza place) for about an hour and my friend/team mate Nichole and I ended up strolling along the shores of Lake Michigan for a while before heading into the restaurant where any surface area outside the bathrooms can be graffiti/written on.
I usually don't like cities in the United States with a passion. I don't mind them overseas at all, just not in the States. I really wasn't sure why until a friend pointed out that overseas there are people walking around quite a bit in cities, but in the States almost everyone drives, so you don't see people outside as much. Which after thinking about it and walking around Chicago seems to be right on.
It was a little strange doing a ministry project on a team again. I haven't done that since YLP in 2004. And it was kind of funny last week as we walked across busy intersections or through the mall when someone would walk up next to me and I thought it was one of my team mates. I mean, who else would be walking up next to me? So I'd turn to them to say something and realize I had never seen that person before and they were simply someone who happened to be going the same direction as I was.
But it struck me towards the evening as I watched the faces of some team mates who had never been in a huge city before, and were feeling perhaps a little overwhelmed, how confident I felt. Even though the buildings dozens of stories high that were towering over my head did every now and again make me feel slightly claustrophobic, for the most part I enjoyed our time in the city. It struck me because I have for the last few years assumed that I was called to a rural setting with minority groups, and have vehemently opposed any thought of working in a city. I wanted someplace lush, green, and rural. Thank you. But walking in Chicago made me wonder if I might want to do some work at some point inner city. Granted, it would hardly be as nice and clean as the tourist trap area of the Windy City. But it would be something to look into. Which really surprised me. But then hey, I painted my toe-nails this afternoon, so why am I shocked at being once again surprised by myself?
Anyway all that to say, between China still stalking me (Sunday School leader last Sunday had spent a few years in China, was teaching a lesson on Missions, and of course guess what part of the world came up. Learned about yet ANOTHER unreached people group in that oriental region) and my new found piqued interest in cities, I have no idea where I'm going to end up Missiologically.
It was also weird because I worked a lot with Eastern Europeans last week. It was totally right up my ally. I knew what to say, how to say it, didn't feel uncomfortable, felt right at home. And for some reason, the old sense of "yay! I'm with who I'm supposed to work with long-term and finding out things that will benefit me later!" wasn't there. My sister pointed out that I have sort of 'cracked the code' with Eastern Europeans so the old challenge isn't there anymore, which is maybe why my interest is more piqued when the Orient is mentioned rather than when something in Europe is mentioned (which, incidentally, when I was called to work with Gypsies in Eastern Europe, Romania kept popping up every time I turned around - totally out of my control, and now that I'm wondering about the 10-40 window, India and China keep popping up. I'd like to read into it, but trying to keep my thoughts still and my prayers active).
Yeah I'm definitely 'wired' for Europe - it's my ancestry and a lot of how I was raised helps me feel much more able to melt right into European culture (and all my Eastern European readers are thinking, "HA! If only you KNEW Rachel how culturally DUMB you still are!" Okay granted. I am still American, and I will be the first to admit that we're kind of dumb when it comes to international interactions. Do I get points for my disclaimer now? ;-D)
So I'm wondering, sometimes God does call us someplace where we just 'melt in.' And He did call me to a place that was very conducive to me learning and growing in ways that will always effect me in my faith and calling. But I am learning there are seasons, and while I still feel that I'll go back to visit Romania and my friends there and rejoice in the growth of their ministries, I don't know that I'll join them like I did before or like I thought I would long-term. I could be totally wrong though. I'm not sure what this new season is of my 'missions career' but I do have a sense that the season is changing, and I'm trying to hold it loosely and focus singly on the Lord and where He is leading. Not easy when there are a bazillion voices all screaming, "Go this way! Go that way!"
So... all that to say, still being stretched and serving Him blindly. Its adventuresome to be sure, but not always as informed as I'd like it to be. See the horrible thing about adventures is that they are wonderful to read about because you know - by what genre section you checked the book out of- how the end will be. But when you are actually LIVING it, you have no idea. And as a Christian, that is okay because we know God is sovereign. As a human though, and a rather type-A one at that, it compels me to... well, do crazy things like paint my toes. Yeah, I know. It's pretty lame. But you must also realize that I have a very healthy guilt-complex instilled in me as an oldest child of two homeschooling therapists. I know enough to be dangerous about anything else wacky that I would want to do. ;-) Tragic, I know. See I wish I wasn't terrified of heights because then I could go skydiving and would have something somewhat impressive to brag about in my "wild and crazy whim that I followed through on" department. ;-)
Alrighty, well, speaking of Eastern Europeans, my dear Romanian brother and his wife invited me over for dinner, and it is one minute past when I am supposed to meet them. Fortunately they are relationship rather than time-oriented people, yet nonetheless, I must go.

~Princess Ouch~

Homework cop-out

This last week was Fall Break, and I was very busy doing absolutely NOTHING. Well that's not true. I got half way through the first chapter of Martin Luther's "Bondage of the Will" and I am supposed to read to Chapter 4 by Tuesday. (I actually forgot about it until last night. Hehe. Woops) and some reading done that is due on Monday, so that's good. However, most of my week was spent getting to know new friends, playing Ultimate Frisbee (and winning), going Contra-dancing (and loving it), trying meatloaf for the first time (yes, the first time in my entire life to have meatloaf. It was actually fairly good), trying not to get this dratted cold that I now have and getting updated in oodles of 'girltalk.'
All that to say, I SHOULD have plenty to write about, however I am not entirely sure how much to broadcast all over the internet on this blog. Therefore, I shall simply put an article from my dearly beloved "Anthropological insights for missionaries" book, which is being used for another class of mine this year. (apparently this college thinks Paul Hiebert had something edifying to say to the Missiological world. Who'd a thunk. Just kidding. The funny thing is that he was my Dad's professor a long long time ago in a Galaxy far far away...) I readily admit this is a blogging cop-out. I'm not always thrilled when my friend's post articles on their blogs when I'm looking for a friendly update on their life. However, my brain is frazzled from four hours of work and this ding-dang cold, and I'll write a profound little blurb-summery at the end of the article. Enjoy or else. (warning to any home-school mothers who may be reading the blog: there is some brief mention of pagan rites and cannabalism. Nothing graphic, just enough to cause little ears to ask questions.)

Kalonda of Kangate
Paul B. Long

The African sun poured upon us as we climbed the mountain path to the village among the trees. The people of Kangate, in the wild Babindi section of the central Congo, had seldom seen a white man. Excited cries greeted me and my three Congolese friends as we entered the dusty country to answer a strange request from an old chieftain among these isolated people.
Several days previously a runner had appeared at our mission station. "Teller of the Word," the runner had said, "Chief Kalonda wants to talk with you."
"What does this old rascal want to see me about?" I wondered, and the question remained in my mind as we drove with difficulty through the mountainous country over dangerous roads. Now at last we would know.
In the shade of the chieftain's hut, surrounded by the smaller huts of several wives, a very aged, emaciated man sat, wraped in an old blanket. THis broken, sick, old chieftain, enthroned on a cross-legged stool bedecked with leopard skin, lifted a feeble hand and greeted us with the customary salutations of the land. "Muouo wenu - life to you."
"Wuoyo webe," we replied, "life to you."
I remembered the tales I had heard of this once-powerful chieftan. Twenty years ago Kalonda was feared and respected for a hundred miles or more around his realm. As a ruler, bold and savage, he freely excercised he power of life and death over his subjects, and death or slavery over his captives. His renown as a chieftain was surpassed only by his great power as a medicine man. Leaders came from distant villages to buy his charms and cures.
One day the chief of a neighboring realm, Kasenda of the Balubal people, arrived in the village of Kangate. The visiting chieftan was worried and needed help.
"I have killed the money messenger of the Mission and taken the money he was carrying to their preachers and teachers," he recounted. "now the dead man has come to life and returned to the white men to tell what I have done. Ive me medicine to make me invisible when the soldiers come!"
"Return to your country," replied Kalonda. "Get twelve she goats, six young, strong women, ten spears and ten knives, then come back to buy my medicine. This is my price for medicine powerful enough to make you invisible."
Complaining of the high cost of this protection, Chief Kasenda returned to Balubal to round up goats, women and weapons.
Chief Kalonda proceeded in the meantime to compound his promised medicine. Sending out his bodyguard, he directed the capture of a young woman from a neighboring tribe. She was brought before the cheif. With elaborate ritual the chief's warriors cut off the captive's head, which was needed for Kalonda's "invisible charm" Cannibal ritual was involved in the proceedings. ON the appointed day, the medicine was presented, the goats and women and wapons were exchanged, and the deal closed to the satisfaction of both leaders.
When the soldiers arrived several weeks later to capture the ruler of the Balubal, Kasenda quietly entered his hut, picked up the head that would make him invisible, and stepped out into his courtyard to laugh at the baggled troops who would not be able to see him. To his suprise, anger, and consequent regret, they surrounded him, bound him securely, and marched him off to the white man's jail. Still holding his high-priced medicine, Kasenda became enraged with his former friend, Kalonda, whose charm had failed. He cursed Kalonda and gave his name as the murdere of the woman whose head he held in his hands. Kalonda, too, was arrested.
Fifteen seasons ran their courses thereafter, and the peoples of the Babinda and Balubal had all but forgotten their former chieftans. Condemned at first to die in jail, both of them were saved when their executions were three times postponed; finally the sentances were changed to fifteen years in prison at hard labor. To the chieftans, this judment was as harsh as death.
Now, released after fifteen years of captivity, old Kalonda had at last come home to die. I looked across the council ring at this old man, remembering what I knew of those years of the past. After the customary silence of respect, I began the conversation:
"Nfumu, Chieftan, your runner says you want to talk with me. I have come. What do you want?"
Kalonda's reply startled me. "Tell me about the white man's God."
"The God I follow is not a white man's God. He is the Father of the New Tribe, HIs people. Jesus Christ is the great Chieftan of the New Tribe, and He accepts anyone who will follow Him. My friends here are also members of the New Tribe. They will tell you about it." And I turned to my Congolese colleagues who really understood the battle old Kalonda was facing. One of my companions was an old witch doctor turned Christian and now an effective pastor among his people. I accompanied with deep concern the battle taking place between the powers that are real and the liberation which is possible.
Copper charm bracelets adorned the once-strong spear arm of the old chief.
"You still trust in your medicine," observed Pastor Mutombo. "Why do you ask about another God?"
With great reluctance, the old man slipped the bracelets from his arm, dropped them in the dust, and said, "Now tell me, 'Teller of the Word,' about your powerful God."
With those copper bands lying at our feet, I began to realize something of the price he was having to pay for what he asked. He had just renounced his potency, and I heard him mutter, "I used to have eight good, strong wives, and all but three old ones ran away while I was in jail. All I have left are old women who are too weak to work."
My eyes followed his glance toward three old women crouched close to a nearby hut. Theywere agitatedly mubling to each other and evidently unhappy with the events taking place.
"Your medicine couldn't hold your women while you were gone?" the pastor questioned; and he answered with a grunt.
"Now," the pastor continued, "the war medicine on your belt shows where you look for power."
After a long, thoughtful pause, the old warrior cut the small skin bag from his belt and dropped it in the dust.
"Now the 'counter-hex' packet at your neck." The old man put a trembling hand to the thong around his neck. This little charm held his protection against all his enemies and made their magic of no power. Silently we waited until, at length, he broke the thong and let his 'security' fall at our feet. Grunts of respect for his courage echoed around the ring of watching tribesmen.
"Your Buanga bua Bunfumu," the pastor reminded, "your medicine of chieftainship."
Wearily Kalonda arose, entered his hut and returned with a large antelope horn filled with assurance of his power over his people. (I have never been sure just what makes up such powers, but I have been told that horns hold bits of hair, the eye of a frog, the tooth of a lion, and the claw of a bird.) Lightning medicine followed, and a host of other protective charms which give forest people some respite from their constant fear of living.
"This is all the protection I have" Kalonda said. But the pastor was evidently waiting for another, more costly surrendur. "Now get your 'life charm,' Kalonda, and I will tell you about the God of the New Tribe."
The old man tremble, broke out in perspiration shook his head and wrapped his tattered blanket across his bony chest. The three old wives had remonstrated with his renunciation of his medicines, and, with this last demand, they commenced the death wail, and started tossing dust in the air over their heads. At this acknowledgement of his impending death, Kalonda roused from his fearful relfections, re-entered his hut, and returned with a little packet of skins. With all the dignity of a great leader, he silenced the wailing wives and surveyed his council ring.
"Teller of the Word," he said, holding out his little packet in his bony hands, "you have asked for the life of Kalonda! THis medicine has protected my life from all my enemies for many years. Many still live who hate me and have curses on my life. When I throw down this medicine all their curses will fall on me, my spirits will withdraw their protection, and I will die. But Kalonda is not afraid to die."
As the packet dropped in the dust, the old chieftain straightened to his full height, lifted his old eyes to the distant hills, and waited for death. We sat in silence as the seconds grew into minutes and tension mounted in the ring of onlookers who waited for their cheif to die.
After a long while, the old chief looked at us, and his lips parted in a relieved grin. "I'm still alive! Kalonda has not been struck dead!"
It took a long time to answer questions from old Kalonda and his people. Questions about the GOd, he said, he had always feared but never known. As the afternoon shadows lengthened, the old chieftain arose with dignity before his people. In a quiet, confident voice he announced,
"Kalonda has a new cheiftain. I follow 'Yesu Kilisto' and He will help me across the river, lead me through the dark forest, and take me to His village where I can sit with His people. I belong to the New Tribe. Kalonda wants all his people to follow Nfumu Yesu, (Chieftain Jesus), and go with HIm to the Village of God.
Not many days after my visit to the Kangate, a messenger arrived with the brief report,
"Kalonda has gone on his journey to meet his new Chief."


I find it interesting that the pastor made the old cheif renounce all his old ways before even beginning to start telling him the good news. What a contrast to a society that is so "seeker friendly' and so afraid to 'offend' anyone or 'scare them away from the Gospel'
If we used the approach the pastor did with the old witch-doctor chieftain, maybe we'd see more authentic disciples and a change in our deteriorating society than we are currently. Just a thought.

~Princess Ouch~

Paradigm shift: Foreign Missions in my backyard

Just a few quick thoughts. I'm reading my professor's dissertation for my class in Advanced issues in Missions. He's going over a position in the International Mission Board (Southern Baptist) called a Strategy Coordinator, which used to be known as a non-residential missionary. Basically the Strategy Coordinator 'targets' a people group (doesn't that sound all official now!) and researches the absolute best way to reach that people group with the Gospel. The SC takes into account all resources, other ministries already in effect, most responsive areas or effective strategies in sharing the gospel with said people group, and then helps put the plan into action. Usually the SC partners with other mission agencies or organizations and has missionaries on the field working "under" him or her.
This summer I heard of some interesting situations involving Romanians and Gypsies in Spain and England. I did some research online and then came across a promotional video on the IMB website (www.imb.org) that told of the unique opportunity for sharing the Gospel with people from closed countries in London, England. For my Contemporary Youth Missions class I'm reading a book called "World at your door" which discusses the many unique opportunities to be a 'foreign missionary" right here in America. The 10/40 window often sends its top 30% in students abroad - namely America - for studying in College or High School Exchange programs. These countries are usually closed to the Gospel or foreign missionaries. The book outlines the unique opportunity so many Christians are passing up in sharing the Gospel with these foreign students who are far away from home, lonely, and open to a loving Christian family and their Message of Hope.
I work with a lady from India. She is about my mom's age, and likes to tell me off at work. I am hoping to do an internship in India, and my coworker has strictly forbidden me to go to India until she goes home so that she can 'take care' of me while I'm overseas.
The woman is amazing: she takes Hebrew, speaks 4 languages already, is a home maker, works 20 hours a week, and entertains the numerous guests her husband brings home or who pop in on her unexpectedly. I've often wanted to visit her but don't want to add to her already overwhelming schedule. Once I asked her if she wanted help cleaning or cooking at home and she looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "I can take care of my own home!" She sniffed. Woops.
Last week she was really tired after work and was walking slowly to the grill to make her dinner.
"Do you want me to make that for you?" I asked. She blinked and slowly handed me her bowl.
"This is the first time you've cooked for me." She commented. I usually pop into work between classes/work to get food, and she often makes my sandwhich (she calls it 'Rachel's Pesto Panini" because I usually order a Chicken Panini with extra pesto.)
So today I hopped into work again with my friend and low and behold, there was my indian friend working. We started teasing each other. Her new thing is joking about how I must really be an old woman, because all I eat is "Rabbit food" (salad/fruit stuffs) and ''such bland food" (I never put five tablespoons of red pepper on my mashed potatoes like she and the other Asian students do) that obviously my stomach is weak like an old lady.
So I started ranting about how Pesto was a VERY flavor-ful addition which meant I was NOT old. She sighed and said yes, us poor Americans don't know what we are missing in food. Luke, our shift-manager had apparently been over to her house the other day and she sighed about how she didn't know how to cook for such weak-stomached people.
"Well I'll tell you what, ma'am. Next semester I and some friends are probably going to get an apartment. So we'll just invite you over to MY house and I'll cook for you, and you can see how good American food can be if its done RIGHT."
She looked at me and blinked. "Yes, that might be good. I have only been told once that I will be invited to an American house, but they haven't had us over yet."
This woman has been in the States for several years! And is rarely invited over. She said she can't wait to go back to India, because America is the most lonely place in the world.

This afternoon I am meeting with my church planting team and some missionaries from overseas. There is a people group that we are going to try and start a church with, however we arne't too sure how to get into the community yet. Apparently when we went to their ethnic resturaunt last Sunday we went during Ramadan, which is why we were the only customers!! Woops. It was a really cute, hole-in-the-wall resturaunt with a grocery store that may be my new favorite place regaurdless if we get this church plant off the ground.
Anyhoo. Am hoping to get into the Gypsy community here as well, but THAT will be a whole 'nother ball game.

Speaking of ball games, I went to our school soccer game the other day. After watching Romania play Italy for the World Cup last year, I was pretty well disguisted. I can't blame it on American's playing soccer, because there was a hispanic guy and a guy from Ghana on our team, and lets just say our team was slaughtered.
*sigh* And I can't play 'cause the sports are guy-only. Pooh.
I would try to change that, but I am taking three 400 level classes this semester, and time is rather crunched.
Speaking of which, I need to get back to studying my professor's dissertation.

Ciao,

Princess Ouch.

Sunt in Oradea acuma

Well I am in Romania finally. :-) I can't write long as I am on the computer of the main office of the Orphanage I volunteered at a few years ago. It's nice to see old friends and familiar places - I lived here for six months a few years ago - but also wierd. All the kids that were at the orphanage have been adopted, and due to some problems with the building they are waiting for funding to remodel before they take more kids into the orphanage. But it's good.
Hopefully this evening I will be able to write more, as I have some interesting stories I want to share, and have taken some amazing pictures. :-)
It's been a little hard as my brain caught on to thinking in Hungarian very quickly, and now I have to switch gears and start thinking in Romanian. My best friend here - Ramona - speaks English very fluently, so I don't like talking Romanian around her very much because she corrects my grammar all the time and prefers to speak in English. But she and I met a friend at McDonald's last night (which costs an arm and a leg here btw, but at least we know the food is good) and she had to step out for a minute and I was able to translate for our friend as he was waiting to order. He's an international student at the Medical university, and the international classes are all in English, so a lot of times its harder for the international stuents to learn Romanian as they are studying and working in an English environment. Anyway it was cool that I was able to help him out linguistically. I think Universities are a really overlooked mission field that could yeild some amazing fruits for the Gospel. Ohhhh... the harvest is so ready. Where are the workers!!!!

I will be in Ordea until Thursday. Ramona is going to help me translate a book my mom gave me before I left that has the whole Bible and Gospel story in a children's book with beautiful pictures. The Gypsy kids speak Romanian, so Ramona is going to help me translate enough of the book for me to be able to lead a VBS for the kids. So we'll see how that goes.

Again, sorry if my language/grammar/choice of wording is wierd. My brain has been going through language over-drive. :-) And I'm not entirely over jetlag yet. :-D

Dana the social worker is writing reports for the Romanian government of the kids they have put in foster care, so I must yeild the computer to her now.

God bless,

¬PrincessOuch¬

Cross-cultural interview

I had to interview someone from another country for my Cross-Cultural Evangelism class. Here are the results. I hope you enjoy!

Svitlana Rozsokha is a single, twenty three year old Ukrainian lady who is finishing her first year at Southern Seminary. While she has enjoyed her eight months in the United States, she is looking forward to going back to Ukraine for the summer to use what she has learned in the classroom to bless several ministries she works with in her home country. Svitlana, or Sveta as she likes to be called, speaks Ukrainian, Russian, English, and has studied French and German in High School.

Sveta and I have gotten to know each other slowly over the last two semesters and began visiting in her dorm room earlier this year. She has shared bits and pieces of her story with me slowly over our friendship, and allowed me to ‘officially’ interview her twice in her room at the end of March and the end of April. Our interviews usually lasted for a few hours and we talked not only about her culture and experiences but also my own personal experiences, both on campus at Southern Seminary, in the U.S.A in general, and living overseas. Sometime during the interviews I was usually offered some form of chocolate or sweet, unhealthy morsel and we almost always ended up sitting comfortably on different ends of her bed with the window open, trying hard to stay on task as we enjoyed the other’s company.

Svitlana’s story of the Lord’s hand in her life is truly a testimony to the faithfulness of God. Her parents divorced when she was very young, leavning her mother with four children, of whom Sveta was the oldest. When Sveta was eleven, her mother remarried an abusive man who eventually killed her and then dissapeared. Svitlana and two of her siblings were put in the same orphanage, but the youngest child, a brother which Sveta had been the primary caretaker of, was placed in another orphanage. To this day Svitlana does not know where he is or how he is doing. Despite being told repeatedly to forget him, she prays for him and trusts God to be as good to him as He has been to her.

Not long after Sveta and her two siblings were put in the orphanage, an American short-term mission team visited the orphanage. An older American couple met Sveta and the three soon fell in love with each other. Despite the three desperately wanting to become part of the same family, the court system had not declared Sveta adoptable, and it is usually extremely hard for Americans to adopt out of Ukraine even under the best of circumstances. The American team left, and Svitlana again thought she had lost people she loved and cared about. Surprisingly, however, the next year when the American team returned, Svitlana’s friends were amongst the team members. Sveta ran to Carrie, the wife of the couple and held her hand and refused to let go.

The American couple were not content to leave Svitlana in the orphanage again, and so began searching for a Ukrainian couple who would adopt her. God raised up a godly Ukrainain family with two daughters of their own to adopt not only Sveta but her two younger siblings. She has been living with this new godly family since then and daily praises God for the blessings He has given her.

The American couple kept in touch with Sveta and after she graduated from the undergraduate program in Ukraine asked her if she would be interested in studying in the United States. She confesses that the thought was not attractive to her at all at first, and was tempted to refuse them. However her adoptive parents and others spoke with her and eventually she agreed, as she saw that going to Seminary would help prepare her for the ministry she felt the Lord calling her to. The American couple, whom Sveta refers to as her American parents, have paid, with their church’s help, for all her travel expenses and Seminary costs.

This summer Sveta is going to be traveling to several orphanages in her home country and hopes the Lord will use her to touch other lives the way her American and Ukrainian parents have blessed hers. She feels torn about returning to Seminary in the fall. While she knows it is a good thing and training will be helpful, she sees the immediate needs in her adoptive father’s ministry and knows how hard it is to do ministry in her native land. She feels an urgency to get about the Lord’s work that is inspiring and commendable.

Brother Anton Rozsokha, Sveta’s adoptive father, has a small church in their home village of Kaniv, in the region of Cherkassy in Ukraine. He has been working there for several years and yet still his church consists of only eight old women who faithfully attend. He is happy that his daughter has the opportunity to learn but misses her bight encouraging spirit and sharp wit in the ministry.

Ukrainian culture is a very task oriented, indirect, private culture with a high priority on how one addresses people of different social status and social etiquette. The Ukrainian language itself has different levels used for people, similar to the Russian formal and informal voices. Tonal inflection is very important. Since the culture is indirect, it is important to pay attention to how a phrase is said. The implications of how or when a word was said can communicate many things that the overall sentence did not in any way indicate. Eye contact is important, as a lack of it communicates distrust or suspicion. The Ukrainians believe that you can ‘see the soul through the eyes.” Ignoring a person verbally is not always a warning signal, however if no response is given, verbal or non-verbal, then it is a good bet that something is wrong.

Svitlana said one of the greatest culture shocks came when she experienced the warm, friendly hospitable southern charm that is a trademark of Kentucky and the American South. She said it was a wonderfully pleasant surprise to have so many offers of care and consideration that were heartfelt and not said merely out of politeness. Apparently even in the churches in Ukraine, such offers are mere formality and not really meant. However, in the States Svitlana feels free to take people at their word when they offer to take her to the store or give her needed items. The Ukrainians see the need to care for their own family members, and within the family circle there is a sense of community, of open fellowship, “what’s yours is mine” mentalities. However, while there is a strong sense of hospitality, there is also a sense of family honor that permeates everything a Ukrainian does. This is very obvious when one is attempting to do evangelism. To be Ukrainian is to be a member of an Eastern Orthodox church. The evangelical church is seen as eccentric and a money-making scheme. There is even a saying, “Don’t talk to the Christians because they will pull you into the church.” Svitlana sees Eastern Orthodoxy as a mere shell of religion, however it is hard for Ukrainians to see the difference between a Baptist missionary and a legalistic, overbearing Orthodox priest. In the past, there had been a good deal of persecution of those outside the Orthodox church. In recent years the persecution has not been nearly as bad. However, Ukrainians will tell there children, “it is better to drink and become a workaholic than join that cult!” when referring to Baptists or other Evangelical Protestants. Family honor is tied to the Orthodox church, and to leave it is to shame one’s family.

Part of the problem Svitlana sees amongst Evangelical churches is their lack of vision for mission. The pastors care for their congregation but do not emphasize evangelism or even inviting new members to churches. There is an overbearing sense of discouragement amongst the churches, as the cultural attitude has historically been against them and they need reminded of who they are and what their mission on earth is.

The holiness of the Sanctuary of Church amongst Orthodox and Evangelicals is not taken flippantly at all, and this can be seen in the dress code of the attendees. The women must always wear skirts and the men nice suits with collared shirts and ties. Jeans, T-shirts, or casual wear in general is unacceptable and highly inappropriate. Make up and jewelry is also discouraged amongst women in the Church. Svitlana sees the Church of all denominations as too formal, as the attitude communicated is that it is a sin to laugh, to be carefree or light hearted. There is a weight and sobriety to faith that has become burdensome. The pastors are expected to do everything in the church with barely any help but also blamed for any problems. There is hardly any lay leadership or volunteer workers to help in the pastor’s many roles, nor do many see the need for this. Recently some pastors have seen the wisdom in recruiting help, but the problem now is that church goers have become apathetic and see no need to get up and help. There is little to no discipleship in the church, which only exacerbates the feelings of oppression, lack of vision, dysfunction and apathy in the church.

Another area that frustrates Svitlana is the roles of men and women in her culture. A man is free to wed or remain single as he chooses, although he is encouraged to marry. Or he can get a job and work, or not, as he chooses. However, if a woman does not marry, respect towards her is lowered and she is not seen as fulfilling her role as a woman. Once she is married, she must serve the husband, even if he does nothing to contribute to the home and family. If a man is to be respected or seen as fulfilling his role, he should provide for his family financially and be able to “. . .fix everything in the house. Don’t call the plumber or something” as Sveta says. A Christian woman should be submissive, quiet and humble in public to her husband. However Sveta sees a lot of hypocrisy in this area. She knows many women in the church who give the impression of a submissive wife in public but are sharp tongued in the home and very opinionated. She believes that this is an area in which the church needs to train the women and disciple the men, as there is a lack of respect from both parties. In Ukraine, a woman should gently disagree once and if the husband remains firm, she should let the issue go. However Sveta views men in her church as deaf to their wives’ wisdom. However she also sees that the wives do not present their feedback in a way that is effective or conducive to gaining their husbands’ trust and respect.

Ukrainians, like many Eastern Europeans, are incredibly intrigued by Americans. In Sveta’s experience, if a Ukrainian pastor wants to get new arrivals to come to his church, a good outreach strategy would be to invite an American short-term missions team to visit. The pastor will have no problem getting people to visit his church. However, the drawback is that the visitors rarely return. When the celebrity Americans leave, there is no further attraction or entertainment to be found at the church. Unfortunately, for native Ukrainians, there is neither the resources nor the inclination to begin ministering to their fellow countrymen. It is often much easier for a foreigner to travel to Ukraine and begin a ministry than for a Ukrainian. Yet a foreigner cannot accomplish what needs doing in the small time frame a short-term mission trip allows.

Svitlana believes that Americans are greatly needed to partner alongside Ukrainian pastors. Americans have the material resources, the training, and the grit needed to reach out to Ukrainians. It is important that Americans wanting to reach out to Ukrainians realize what they are getting themselves into, and not enter this difficult ministry with naïve expectations or over -optimistic hopes. Ukrainians find personal and familial identity in their Orthodox heritage and faith. While it is very obvious that the Orthodox “faith” has become a legalistic club of tradition, it is hard for a Ukrainian to see the benefits of a personal relationship with an invisible Christ when their personal relationships with their visible, tight knit families will be destroyed or ripped apart with their conversion.

Another issue with American or other Western cultures ministering in Ukraine is what Svitlana described as “liberalism.” In Ukraine, loud laughter, dancing, music, carefree dress, and intimate attitudes upon first acquaintance threatens Ukrainians. A major complaint that many Eastern Europeans have voiced is that Americans do not realize the need to adjust to the culture they are visiting. “You should realize that not everybody is an American.” Oftentimes, the majority of the participants in short term mission trips are teenagers who are young and excited about their faith. This is a good thing, however they need to be taught maturity and responsibility with their energy and exuberance.

Svitlana has had very negative experiences with short term American teams going to Ukraine and immediately “coupling off,” or in other words beginning dating relationships with team members or with Ukrainians they have met. While she is happy that they feel so at home in her country and have met people they want to become good friends with, it is very detrimental to their ministry if they are focusing on one another instead of those they are trying to reach. “You didn’t come here to get a boyfriend, you came to teach about Christ. You are not coming to Ukraine to fall in love with a boy, you came to love Jesus and tell others about Him, so just put your focus there.”

Svitlana was also surprised by the expectations American youth had upon arriving in Ukraine. The facilities are bad as it is a poor country, and many times “bathrooms” are outhouses built apart from the main building. This and the fact that the nearest McDonalds is several hundred miles away seems to shock many mission trip goers. In Sveta’s eyes, they must realize that Ukraine is a simple country that does not have much of the technology, facilities, comforts or resources that the United States has, and if they are going to be effective they need to leave that kind of lifestyle behind them when they leave the United States boarder.

Brother Anton has repeatedly expressed the need for a partner in his work, and Sveta believes a long-term American missionary could be incredibly helpful. However, the American would have to be willing to integrate slowly amongst the Ukrainians. Immediate acceptance cannot be expected, and the American would have to make great sacrifices in lifestyle and personal expectations. Ukrainians do need to have religious and cultural reforms, but they have a saying that is very telling on their outlook: “Don’t tell me what to do because I’ll tell you where to go: away!” The implication is that overzealous foreigners can take their zeal and foreignness straight back to where they came from, and they can forget about evangelizing, too.

When an American first moves into a Ukrainian community, they will be treated as the local friendly rock star. Soon this will give way to bewilderment as the locals try to figure out why a person would leave the comfortable affluence of America to join them in their struggle out of a communistic oppressive economy to first world status. If the missionary truly seeks to be incarnational, they will discover the Ukrainians to be curious and eventually receptive to their message. However it will take a great deal of time, patience and prayer.

There is a great need for discipleship in Ukraine. Svitlana believes that, besides evangelism, discipleship is the most overlooked thing in the Church there. A good deal of legalism can be found amongst established Evangelical churches, and this needs to be addressed. A personal relationship with Christ is difficult to foster and multiply if it is steeped in legality.

It is important for missionaries from America to realize that they come from a low priority, direct culture. It is therefore very easy for people from places like Ukraine to misunderstand or be offended at something said or done, even when the missionary had nothing but the best intentions. The missionary must also realize that there are certain cultural aspects that, while they are very dysfunctional, are still an integral part of the culture. It is difficult to draw the fine line of knowing when to respect the culture and adjust, or work around it, and knowing when to hold one’s ground and not compromise. A Christian working with a lifeless church in a legalistic culture will face many challenges that must be met with prayer, a teachable spirit, and something beyond flexibility: fluidity. Ukraine is a challenging place for ministry, even for native Ukrainians. Cultural informants like Svitlana are invaluable in settings such as this. She is a very intelligent, compassionate person who can relate to Americans and help them realize their cultural blind spots and will not hesitate to respect the culture and person as she guides and teaches. It will be only a continuation of an already amazing story as God continues to write out her tale of glorifying Him in all that she does.

Eastern Europe thoughts and pictures

The Church planting praxis that I am a part of is getting ready to start our outreach in a community that has a large Bosnian and Ukrainian population.

Since I believe God is leading me to work long-term in Eastern Europe anyway, this is pretty cool. Although we may decide to 'target' (I don't like that word) the Hispanic or Iranian people groups in that area as well. But I think we might go with the Bosnians, as there's about three times more of them than anyone else, and we know where to find them in that community.

I feel the need to post something on my blog, but am too tired to put a lot of words together that will make sense, and I have to go study for a mid-term. So I thought I would just share some cool pictures of Eastern Europe that missionaries with the IMB have taken overseas. Hope you enjoy.

Anthropological Insights for Missionaries

I am currently reading a really good book for my "Cross Cultural Evangelism" class called "Anthropological Insignts for Missionaries" by Paul G. Hiebert. Thought I would share two articles from the book I found particularly thought provoking and helpful. They are actually quotes from Missiological magazines, so that's why there's the little blurb at the end about the copyright etc.

The Viable Miossionary: Learner, Trader, Story Teller

by Donald N. Larson

As I see it, there are three roles that the missionary can develop in order to establish viability in the eyes of the national non-Christian: Learner, trader and story teller. I would first become a learner. After three months I would add another: trader. After three more months, I would add a third: story teller. After three more months, while continuing to be learner, trader and story teller, I would begin to develop other roles specified in my job description.

Let me elaborate. From his position as an outsider, the missionary must find a way to move toward the center if he hopes to influence people. Some roles will help him make this move. Others will not. His first task is to identify those which are most appropriate and effective. Then he can begin to develop ways and means of communicating his Christian experience through these roles in which he has found acceptance.

Learner

More specifically, as learner, my major emphasis is on language, the primary symbol of identification in my host community. When I try to learn it, they know that I mean business - that they are worth something to me because I make an effort to communicate on their terms. I learn a little each day and put it to use. I talk to a new person every day. I say something new every day. I gradually reach the point where I understand and am understood a little. I can learn much in three months.

I spend my mornings with a language helper (in a structured program or one that I design on my own) from which I elicit the kinds of materials that I need to talk to people in the afternoons. I show him how to drill me on these materials and then spend a good portion of the morning in practice. Then in the afternoon I go out into public places and make whatever contacts are natural with local residents, talking to them as best I can with my limited proficiency - starting the very first day. I initiate one conversation after antoher, each of which says both verbally and non-verbally, "I am a learner. Please talk with me and help me." With each conversation partner, I get a little more practice and a little more proficiency, from the first day on.

At the end of my first three months, I have established myself with potentially dozens of people and reached the point where I can make simple statements, ask and answer simple questions, find my way around, learning the meaning of new words on the spot, and most importantly, experience some measure of "at-homeness" in my adopted community. I cannot learn the "whole language'' in three months, but I can learn to initiate conversations, control them in a limited way and learn a litle more about the language from everyone whom I meet.

Trader

When my fourth month begins,
I add a role - that of trader,
trading experience and insight
with people of my adopted
community - seeing ourselves
more clearly as part of mankind,

not just members of different
communities or nations. I prepare for this role by periods of residence in as many other places as I can, or vicariously, through course work in anthropology and related fields. I also come equipped with a set of 8 x 10 photos illustrating a wide range of ways to be human.

During the second three months I spend mornings with my language helper learning to talk about the photos in my collection. thus I build on the language proficiency developed in the first month. I practice my description of these pictures and prepare myself as best I can to answer questions about them. Then in the afternoon I visit casually in the community, using the photos as part of my "show and tell" demonstration. I tell as much as I can about the way others live, how they make their livings, what they do for enjoyment, how they hurt, and how they struggle for survival and satisfaction.

At the end of this second phase, I establish myself not only as a learner but as one who is interested in other people and seeks to trade one bit of information for another. My language proficiency is still developing. I meet many people. Depending upon the size and complexity of the community, I establish myself as a well-known figure by this time. I become a bridge between the people of the local community and a larger world - at least symbolically.

Story Teller

When I begin my seventh month, I shift emphasis again to a new role. Now I become a story teller. I spend mornings with my language helper. Now it is to learn to tella very simple story to the people whom I meet and respond to their inquiries as best I can. The stories that I tell are based on the wanderings of the people of Israel, the coming of Christ, the formation of God's new people, the movement of the Church into all the world and ultimately, into this very community, and finally, my own story of my encounter with Christ and my walk as a Christian. During the mornings I develop these stories and practice them intensively. Then in the afternoon I go into the community, as I have been doing for months, but now to encounter a people as story teller. I am still language learner and trader, but I have added the role of story teller. I share as much of the story with as many people as I can each day.

At the end of this third phase, I have made acquaintances and friends. I have had countless experiences that I will never forget. I have left positive impressions as learner, trader and story teller. I am ready for another role, and another and another.

~From Missiology 6 (April 1978): 158-161~

Omodo

By Walter A. Trobisch

On one of my trips I worshipped in an African church where nobody knew me. After the service i talked to two boys who had also attended.

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?" I asked the first one.

"Three."

"Are they all from the same stomach?"

"Yes, my father is a Christian."

"How about you?" I addressed the other boy.

He hesitated. In his mind he was adding up. I knew immediately that he came from a polygamous family.

"We are nine," he finally said.

"Is your father a Christian?"

"No," was the typical answer, "he is a polygamist."

"Are you baptised?"

"Yes, and my brothers and sister too," He added proudly.

"And their mothers?"

"They are all three baptised, but only the first wife takes communion."

"Take me to your father."

The boy led me to a compound with many individual houses. It breathed an atmosphere of cleanliness, order and wealth. Each wife had her own house and her own kitchen. The father, a middle-aged, good-looking man, tall, fat and impressive, received me without embarrassment and with apparent joy. I found Omodo, as we shall call him, a well-educated person, wide awake and intelligent, with a sharp wit and a rare sense of humor. From the outset he made no apologies for being a polygamist, he was proud of it. Let me try to put down here the essential content of our conversation that day which lasted for several hours.

"Welcome to the hut of a poor sinner!" The words were accompanied by good-hearted laughter.

"It looks like a rich sinner," I retorted.

"The saints come very seldom to this place," he said, "they don't want to be contaminated with sin."

"But they are not afraid to receive your wives and children. I just met them in church."

"I know. I give everyone a coin for the collection plate. I guess I finance half of the church's budget. They are glad to take my money, but they don't want me."

I sat in thoughtful silence. After a while he continued, "I feel sorry for the pastor. By refusing to accept all the polygamous men in town as church members he has made his flock poor and they shall always be dependent upon subsidies from America. he has created a church of women whom he tells every Sunday that polygamy is wrong."

"Wasn't your wife heart-broken when you took a second one?"

Omodo looked at me almost with pity. "It was her happiest day," he said finally.

"Tell me how it happened."

"Well, one day after she had come home from the garden and had fetched wood and water, she was preparing the evening meal, while I sat in front of my house and watched her. Suddenly she turned to me and mocked me. She called me a 'poor man,' because I had only one wife. She pointed to our neighbor's wife who could care for her children while the other wife prepard the food."

"Poor man," Omodo repeated. "I can take much, but not that. I had to admit that she was right. She needed help. She had already picked out a second wife for me and they get along fine."

I glanced around the courtyard and saw a beautiful young woman, about 19 or 20, come out of one of the huts.

"It was a sacrifice for me," Omodo commented. "Her father demanded a very high bride price."

"Do you mean that the wife, who caused you to become a polygamist is the only one of your family who recieves communion?"

"Yes, she told the missionary how hard it was for her to share her love for me with another woman. According to the church my wives are considered sinless because each of them only has one husband. I, the father, am the only sinner in our family. Since the Lord's supper is not given to sinners, I am excluded from it. Do you understand that, pastor?"

I was entirely confused.

"And you see," Omodo continued, "they are all praying for me that I might be saved from sin, but they don't agree from which sin I must be saved."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the pastor prays that I may not continue to commit the sin of polygamy. My wives pray that I may not commit the sin of divorce. I wonder whose prayers are heard first."

"So your wives are afraid that you become a Christian?"

"They are afraid that I become a church member. Let's put it that way. For me there is a difference. You see they can only have intimate relations with me as long as I do not belong to the church. In the moment I would become a Church member their mariage relations with me would become sinful."

"Wouldn't you like to become a church member?"

"Pastor, don't lead me into temptation! How can I become a church member, if it means to disobey Christ? Christ forbade divorce, but not polygamy. The church forbids polygamy but demands divorce. How can I become a church member, if I want to be a Christian? For me there is only one way, to be a Christian without the church."

"Have you ever talked to your pastor about that?"

"He does not dare to talk to me, because he knows as well as I do that some of his elders have a second wife secretely. The only difference between them and me is that I am honest and they are hypocrites."

"Did a missionary ever talk to you?"

"Yes, once. I told him that with the high divorce rate in Europe, they have only a successive form of polygamy while we have a simultaneous polygamy. That did it. He never came back."

I was speechless. Omodo accompanied me back to the village. He evidently enjoyed to be seen with a pastor.

"But tell me, why did you take a third wife?" I asked him.

"I did not take her. I inherited her from my late brother, including her children. Actually my olderbrother would have been next in line. But he is an elder. He is not allowed to sin by giving security to a widow."

I looked in his eyes. "Do you want to become a Christian?"

"I am a Christian." Omodo said without smiling.

As I walked down the path, the verse came to my mind: "You blind guides, straining out a gnat and swallowing a camel."

What does it mean to take responsibility as a congregation for Omodo? I am sorry that I was not able to see Omodo again, because I had met him while I was on a trip. I just report to you the essence of our conversation because it contains in a nutshell the main attitudes of polygamists toward the church. It is always healthy to see ourseves with the eyes of an outsider.

I asked myself: What would I have done if I were pastor in Omodo's town?

~From Walter A. trobisch, "Congregational Responsibility for the Christian Individual," in Readings in a Missionary Anthropology II, ed. William A. Smalley (South Pasadena: William Carey Library, 1978), pp. 223-235.~

Theological Foundations

What are the theological foundations for critical contextualization? First, it affirms the priesthood of all believers. With critical contextualization, decisions are made not by the leaders for the people, but by all of the believers.

Leaders and missionaries throughout history have often felt threatened by this approach to biblical hermeneutics. Since they believe themselves better trained, they claim for themselves the exclusive right to make theological decisions. They are afriad things might get out of hand if the laity were involved in interpreting the Bible and in applying its message to their everyday lives.

What does keep matters from going astray when all are involved in the application of Scripture to the problems of life? Does not the process open the door for wild interpretations of the Bible and Christian practices? There are three checks on such excessiveness.

First, the Bible is taken as the final and difinitive authority for Christian beliefs and practices. Everyone, therefore, must begin at the same place.

Second, the priesthood of believers assumes that all the faithful have the Holy Spirit to guide them in the understanding and application of the Scriptures to their own lives. It is all too easy for leaders to accept this belief in theory, but to shy away from it in practice. To deny young believers the right to be involved in bliblical interpretation and decision making is to deny that the same Holy Spirit we know to be within us and guiding us into the truth is also within them.

Third, there is the constant check of the Church. C. Norman Kraus (1979) points out that the contextualization of the gospel is ultimately the task not of individuals and leaders, but of the church as a "discerning community." Within that community, individuals contribute according to their gifts and abilities. The pastor and missionary have a greater knowledge of the Bible and therefore should provide the exegesis of the appropriate texts within their biblical context. The people, however, understand their own culture and problems and should play an important part in determining the hermeneutical application of the Scripture to their own lives. But they must be subject to the church as a whole.

The church is not an aggregate of individuals, each seeking his or her own interpretation of the Bible. It is to be a true community of people seeking to follow Christ and serve one another. Only then will it become what Kraus calls an "authentic Christian community," a hermeneutical community that strives to understand God's message to it and bears witness to the world of what it means to be a Christian, not only in beliefs but also in life. The church as a body is a "new order." "

~Paul G. Hiebert, Anthropological Insights for Missionaries (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 1985) pp. 191-192~